


Peace for the Lost

by Kinsdura



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Corvo!Chrollo, Dishonored AU, Dishonored Spoilers, Dishonored: Death of the Outsider Spoilers, HXHBB 2019, Hunter X Hunter Big Bang, Low Chaos (Dishonored), M/M, Outsider!Kurapika, Typical Canonical Violence, a lot of in-game missions are skipped, and the outsider is flirtier than usual, hxhbb19, isn’t exactly like the game but carries a few key plot points
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 16:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19338343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinsdura/pseuds/Kinsdura
Summary: Chrollo is framed for assassinating the Empress while serving as her Lord Protector. While trying to get back at those who have wronged him, he catches the attention of a certain dark entity.





	1. Praying for Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I return with a fic about my newest hyper-interest Dishonored! If you haven't played the game, don't worry, I tried to explain everything you'd need to know! So without further ado, I hope you enjoy this idea!

He remembered returning home, back to Dunwall Castle where Wobble and Empress Oito greeted him warmly, delivering news that said other islands were closing them off due to the rat plague. Oito, he remembered, had been upset at this. All she ever wanted was to help her people. And then he remembered when the assassins came for them, using supernatural abilities he’d never encountered before. He fought with panic suppressed, having dealt with people after the Empress’s life before, but never with these sets of skills. He thought he had won after felling each and every one of them, that victory was his when—

“Lord Chrollo?”

“Did he pass out?”

“I thought he could take more pain than this,” the disappointed words said, ringing around him. Chrollo’s head throbbed, and the voice of whoever was talking made it worse. “Wake him up will you?”

A splash of cold water later and Chrollo was jolted out of his stupor, soaked and hurting, but everything still intact. His fingers, his arms, his legs… everything was there, but some part of him wished they weren’t. He could also feel hunger clawing at his stomach and did his best to ignore it in favor of focusing on the people in front of him. It took a second to see them clearly, but when he did, he recognized that the High Overseer Light Nostrade was standing in front of him with the torturer standing behind him slightly.

Faintly, he recalled that the High Overseer was visiting him more frequently now that the end of his six months in the Coldridge prison was coming to an end. He wondered what was in store for him this time.

“It’s good that you’ve held on this long,” Nostrade said, a scary smile on his face. “You can handle more than two men combined can, but we still need something from you.”

Nostrade circled around behind him, and Chrollo failed to keep him in his line of sight, getting dizzy from straining his eyes just a little too much. He closed his eyes.

“We need a signed confession of the Empress’s death.”

Memories flashed into Chrollo’s mind, images of assassins hopping across rooftops and desperate slashes of his sword thrown towards an unknown enemy, heart beating frantically, movements too slow, arms feeling heavy.

He briefly saw the Empress and her daughter, scared and without any defense, and a moment later he was unable to move to be with them, held aloft by a force he couldn't see.

A splatter of red and flash of black later, and the two most important people in his life were gone. His heart wrenched, and he felt like he was barely breathing above a sea of despair.

“Silence again huh? We can fix that,” the torturer said, a cruel laugh in his voice. The sound of metal sliding off of metal stabbed a spike of fear through Chrollo’s chest, but he quelled it just as fast as it came. He refused to show weakness, but he could only forget about the Empress’s murder so many times before it got too painful to remember. Too painful to conceal and more painful than the torture he’d been enduring. She had trusted him with everything dear to her and her own life, and he’d failed her when it counted the most.

_ Oito… _

A gloved hand roughly pushed back his head and gripped his hair, followed by the heat of an iron rod lifting towards his face. He clenched his teeth as acidic fire seared onto his forehead, praying to the Outsider that it’d end soon, a pained scream dying in his throat as he did.

“Now now Lord Chrollo, we can be reasonable,” the Overseer tsked as if he was a child refusing to share their snack. “As long as you comply, the rest of your stay here will be in luxury. You see, in order for the public to be satisfied with your execution, they want your head  _ and _ your confession.”

Chrollo looked him up and down, his red suit and polished boots gaudy in the dirty and rat infested room. He then met the man’s eyes and remember how they looked when they had framed him for her murder—framed him for the death of his sister.

“Well?” the Overseer asked, a slight nervousness creeping into his voice now, barely distinguishable to most ears. But not to Chrollo. He smiled slowly, feeling better about that. That Nostrade was afraid of him despite being so heavily restrained and exhausted. That he was afraid because he knew Chrollo could kill him in an instant if it weren’t for being chained down to a chair. He cleared his throat.

“You should give the public the head of your dick instead,” Chrollo got out, his voice husky from disuse. (Or was it overuse? He wasn’t sure anymore.) “Then we’ll all be equally disappointed.”

A guard nearby coughed out a laugh, unable to regain his composure as the torturer snickered openly at his words. The High Overseer was red in the face.

“I can’t wait to see your body drop lifeless to the ground Lucilfer,” he gritted out, but Chrollo shrugged.

“Do you want my blood splatter to sign your confession forms then?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Nostrade gave, but he didn’t look amused. “Unfortunately I’ll have to wait for tomorrow like everyone else to see your satisfying demise.”

The High Overseer turned from where Chrollo sat, but stopped just as he was about to leave the room.

“Thanks, by the way, for taking the fall for this,” he mused, as if he suddenly had the upperhand in the conversation. “No one will ever truly know who really killed the Empress and yet they’ll all blame you for it. The bastard. The traitor. The heretic.” Nostrade grinned at the insults, as if the sound of them out loud was all it took to solidify their existence. “Yes, this is how it should be. And please,  _ do _ consider writing that confession Lord Chrollo; it’s the least you could do for us after putting up with you for so long.”

He left then, followed closely by the torturer, and the guard who was by the door cautiously approached.

“Hey man, you look rough; don’t worry, I won’t hurt you anymore than they did.”

The shackles holding Chrollo to the chair clacked open, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to get up again. Thankfully the guard understood that.

“It’s alright man, at least tonight is your last night dealing with this right?” he laughed mirthlessly as he hoisted Chrollo’s arm over his shoulders. “Just make sure you can walk to the gallows yourself; I’d hate to see you be dragged up there like a  _ real _ criminal.”

“Like now?” Chrollo croaked out, a crooked smile on his face despite how shitty he felt. The guard looked down and laughed, noticing then that Chrollo’s toes were dragging on the ground.

“Yes, just like this!”

They lapsed into silence as they left the room and went down a few hallways, passing many guards and rats on the way to his holding cell. When they got there, the guard frowned, shutting the bars behind him as the door locked behind him automatically.

“Ya know, when I was younger I looked up to you.”

Chrollo closed his eyes, his limbs and body tired from the day. He really wanted to sleep, but instead he stayed awake and sat down on the floor of his cell, resting his head against the concrete wall when he got settled. “Thank you.”

“Well I mean… everyone did, so I wasn’t particularly special for that. But even now, I’d have to say I still admire you.”

A breath of a laugh escaped him pessimistically. He cracked an eye open to look at the guard, their sincerity clear.  _ Odd. _

“For murder?”

“No!” the guard said quickly in defense, then paused to look around, as if someone was going to hear him argue with a prisoner. He sighed  when he was satisfied that no one was around, then turned back to Chrollo, calmer now. “No. For your bravery.”

He then handed him a tray with half a loaf of bread on it; his last meal.

_ How thoughtful. _

“More than usual,” he said instead in a grateful tone. “I won’t forget this…”

“Shalnark,” the guard said with a smile.

“Thank you, again,” Chrollo said with a nod, hand going for the loaf of bread. Shalnark tipped his hat at him.

“Just make sure you eat it ‘kay? It expires quickly,” he said with humor, ducking to the side before he came back with a grin. “Almost forgot your eating utensil!”

Chrollo raised an eyebrow, unsure what he meant by that when he picked up the bread, seeing a glinting key underneath it and a note. Puzzled, he looked back up to see that Shalnark was gone, instead seeing a spare sword left on the table just outside his cell. He blinked once then turned to the note and key, reading it as he scarfed down the bread.

 

_ Lord Chrollo, _

_  It is within great interests to us that you live past tomorrow. Who we are doesn’t matter right now. _

_  You have been provided a key and a weapon, now the rest is up to you. Get past the guards and through an escape hatch beside the front entrance door. This will lead you straight to the water; head to the sewers. _

_  There you’ll find some gear we’ve made specifically for you. More instructions will follow if you choose to take this offer. _

 

Chrollo flipped it over and over and reread the note at least three times before he made his decision. His fingers fumbled more than he would’ve liked, but he managed to use the key he’d received to get his cell door open. The door swung open without a sound, and he half stumbled out, grabbing ahold on the sword across the way. It was a decent sword, and the one he was used to training with at that. Too bad it wasn’t his own sword from back in the castle.

He crouched down a bit when he saw a guard up ahead but his knees almost buckled at the movement. He frowned, barely holding his body up with his free hand as he contemplated the situation. His legs still felt like jelly, and his hand could barely grip a sword, but he was going to have to make do.

It only took half an hour for him to get the hang of avoiding guards, sticking to the shadows and climbing up stacked boxes to crawl around on the pipes above. He only knocked out one guard the whole time, looting his unconscious body of money and info, and pickpocketing the rest of them when he would drop to the ground. Chrollo prayed they wouldn’t notice the absence of the things he’d taken, and also that every squeak of metal and shifting of his weight on the pipes wouldn’t draw their attention. It seemed to work.

Chrollo slipped past the last of the guards, sneaking out through a hidden entrance he assumed hardly anyone used, even in emergencies, as the door was hard to open and looked like it had rusted some. He went through and closed the door behind him as silently as he could with its rusted hinges, then dropped down a ladder to the bottom level, water splashing up around his ankles. Glancing to his right, he was blinded by the outside light pouring into the facility’s water channel. This was clearly the way.

Trudging through the shallow water, he soon found himself where the water flowed into actual river. Looking around, he spotted a few guards on some bridge keeping an eye out, but if he could stay under the water long enough, they might mistake him as a fish… or not notice at all. Suddenly  he tried to recall the last time he had swum.  _ Years,  _ supplied his brain, remembering that he’d taken lessons when he was younger and still on his home island. He missed Serkonos…

Chrollo shook his head of those thoughts and, with a quick prayer that his skills had never left him, he dived in.

The water was cold, and he uselessly wished that he had the time to get used to the temperature. But he knew he didn’t, and all he could do now was attempt to make his way through the water as best as he could. Miraculously his swimming abilities had survived, so he was able to make it to the otherside without even drawing the slightest bit of attention.

When he dragged himself to the shore, he stumbled into a run toward the sewers. His energy felt sapped from his quick dip into the river, and even though it felt superfluous at this he point, he prayed that his legs wouldn’t give out before he could get out of danger. He felt his mind stop for second, registering just how much he’d been doing that…

Praying…

Chrollo knew himself well, and would tell others rather bluntly that he had never been particularly religious himself, only taking the steps that were required by the Abbey to pass as not being a heretic, but after the assassination he had nothing to lose. If the Overseers worked for the Abbey, and the Abbey hated the watcher of the Void, then so be it. He’d make the enemy of his enemy his friend, damned if the god they so loathed even existed in the first place.

So he had started praying at the beginning of his six months in the Coldridge Prison. He either prayed when he was left to pass out in his cell or during his time in the torture chamber, hoping against all odds that the deity they called the Outsider actually existed. He had wondered, too, if the Outsider really _was_ everywhere at once, and if he really did know every past and future and every action of every person of every timeline ever created. It was mind boggling to think about, but if he could truly do all those things, then the Outsider sure took his sweet time finally helping him out. Not that he was gonna complain now. Not when this chance was so well worth the wait.

Chrollo continued on, having to avoid the ever growing presence of rats on top of the guards who regularly patrolled the sewers. 

He knew Oito had been concerned about the rats plague that had spread throughout the city so quickly, and he’d forgotten how bad it was until now. Having been out of Dunwall for months then being immediately thrown in jail for another few months after his arrival had really narrowed his perspective of the problem. But he was enlightened about how bad it had gotten now, especially since he had just seen a hoard of rats devour two guards alive.

It was, admittingly, just as funny as it was disturbing.

At what Chrollo assumed was the midway point, he found a big suitcase of sorts with a letter on top of it.

 

_ Lord Chrollo, _

_  If you are reading this it means you have successfully escaped and taken up our offer. We are very pleased. _

_  Take whatever gear you wish from this box and head post haste to the end of the sewers to Wrenhaven River. There our friend Melody is waiting for you. _

_  We await your safe arrival. _

 

“Guess it’d be rude to not accept their gifts,” Chrollo mumbled to himself, admiring a particularly beautiful sword that he'd picked up almost instinctually. He hated how much he liked its weight in his hand, how it moved easily through the air, and the fact that it was  _ retractable _ . It would be good for easy transport, for concealing, and for… well, why lie to himself? For the dramatics as well.

Even though he didn’t like feeling indebted to these people he had never met, he happily ditched the guard’s sword and replace it with the new one, picking up the crossbow that accompanied it as well. He could never complain with new equipment, especially when they were so wonderfully crafted.

He carried on now with a renewed energy even though his body was desperately tired. He prayed that he’d be able to make it to the end of the sewers without passing out.

_ This is the last prayer,  _ Chrollo promised in his head, as if the Outsider was actually listening to him. He doubted it, but it didn’t hurt to bargain.  _ The last for today, at least. _

Oddly, he felt like the world agreed with him, for he didn’t feel his limbs grow heavy after speed running through the rest of the tunnels and knocking out the few guards he couldn’t avoid. He didn’t think about it much.

When he got to the end of the sewers, he was again briefly blinded by the light of the setting sun. When his eyes adjusted, he saw a small woman waving him down, her large brimmed hat and dress simple and clean as they were nudged gently by the wind.

“Lord Chrollo, over here!” she said, and her soft voice was most welcomed after hearing a bunch of rugged men demanding things from him. He smiled.

“And you are?”

“Melody,” she supplied, a gentle smile on her face. “I didn’t know if you’d make it or if you’d ever come, but I’m certainly glad you did. The others are waiting for us at the Hound Pits Hub.”

Chrollo didn't know where that was, but he honestly couldn’t care less at the moment. Weariness was returning to his body, and fast.

“Well I’m ready to leave this place behind, when you are,” Chrollo said and she nodded.

“Of course; let’s get you out of here.”

She led him onto her small boat with a soft tug at his hands, and he let her do so. When he was settled she went about getting the boat going.

“They’re all looking forward to your arrival,” Melody commented on a more professional note. “They will be thrilled you made it out in one piece.”

“As am I,” Chrollo said and she laughed, but the laugh sounded far away as it scattered into an echo. His vision darkened, and he felt more than heard  _ something _ telling him to close his eyes. He couldn’t resist really anything at that moment, so he let his eyelids fall, only to see that the darkness under his lids were tinted with a pulsing blue. The pull became stronger, and he could no longer hear Melody talking.

In the distance, he heard whale songs.


	2. A Dream Worth Having

Chrollo woke up in a room he was unfamiliar with, candles flickering around the bed and the off-white sheets covering him warmer than anything he’d ever gotten in his time at Coldridge Prison. When he looked around, the rest of the room seemed wholly undecorated, the wood paneling on the walls and floor bare and underwhelming. Water dripped up to the ceiling.

Chrollo sat up slowly, wondering if Melody was still around. If so, she’d be able to give him more information about how he’d gotten here. And an explanation for why the water in his room ignored gravity as well.

He got up to his feet tenderly only to find that he wasn’t sore from the day before at all; a miracle Chrollo immediately attributed to the Outsider. _Praying to him for so long paid off a lot yesterday, I don’t doubt he had a hand in my quick recovery…_

_…Or I could just be used to attributing any luck I’ve had over the past few months to him, despite his debatable existence…_

Chrollo pursed his lips at the thought.

“Not that it matters anyway, since I’ll likely never meet any god at all, let alone the Outsider himself,” he said out loud with amusement. stretching as he walked to the first door he saw and opening it, only to stop at its threshold, eyes wide at what he saw.

Across from him was a crumbled wall, a big hole that extended to the roof and down to the wooden floor boards in the center of it. Outside, the sky was a light blue and the ground was broken into chunks and suspended in mid air, as if paused in time. There was no breeze.

“What in the world…”

He peered out of the hole, bewildered and awed at the sight. As he stepped out into this otherworldly place, the space in front of him shifted and there appeared a lithe young man, his eyes closed and his skin pale to the point of looking sickly, the only imperfection found on it being a straight scar that went horizontal across his neck. His blonde hair was tangled around his head and stopped at his shoulders, only the tips touching the edges of his clothes.

He wore dark green, high-waisted overalls that were fastened around his waist with buttons, somewhat like a corset, over an off-white collared, long sleeved shirt. An undershirt peeked through an opening at the throat. His hands and feet were covered by buttoned, leather gloves and boots, reaching up to his elbows and knees.

But that wasn’t what held Chrollo’s attention. His appearance was startling, sure, but more so due to the fact that he was floating in front of him by a foot or two, and that smoke echoed off of his form as if he were made of the same substance of a candle’s dying wick. But the thing that really arrested Chrollo’s focus, the one thing that rooted him to the spot…

His eyes, opening slowly now, were pitch black except for two bright dots of red, like two suns forever held in the cycle of sunrise and sunset, both opposites yet equals in their existence. They burned so brightly that even in this cold world Chrollo felt warmth from them.

“So nice to finally meet you in person Chrollo,” the strange man said, making a slight bow from his position in the air. “I am the Outsider. I see you’ve been praying to me for some time.”

“I— well— that is,” Chrollo’s words stumbled out of his mouth, and for some reason his tongue felt heavy and his movements slower. _Of all the times to lag in a dream…_ “You’re just an illusion. Some made-up whale god the Abbey made to keep people in line.”

The man claiming to be Outsider blinked at him, then he gave a slight smile, as if amused.

“I was made way before the Abbey was even conceived, dear Chrollo. But if you truly don’t believe in me after seeing me in the flesh…” He lifted a hand towards him. “Then let me offer you more concrete proof; my gift to you.”

The back of Chrollo’s left hand started to burn as if it’d been struck by the hot iron and he grasped at it, surprised that even in his dreams he could feel pain so intensely. He quickly brought up his hand to inspect the damage, but was surprised to see that it had no signs of marring; it appeared just as smooth as it was before. Only now an intricate marking laid on it instead, as if it had been tattooed onto him in an instant. When he clenched his hand, an odd power coursed right through him as the symbol flared a golden hue. He stared at it for a little longer before he looked back up at the proclaimed Outsider.

“How is this proof?”

“You’ll have to wait and see, now won’t you?” the Outsider said with a devilish smile as he floated closer and came to hover in front of him. “The symbol on your hand is my Mark, which gives you access to the magic of the Void.”

“Magic,” Chrollo said in a flat tone, disbelieving of the notion. “And why would you give something like that to me? It can’t possibly be because of my barely year old faith in you, right?”

“Would you believe me if I were to say I chose you because I found you physically attractive?” the god asked, a smile still on his face.

Chrollo’s face burned up instantly, the Void thrumming with his accelerated heart beats. The Outsider laughed.

“I only jest, Chrollo! Surely, you mustn't think that I would choose someone to be marked because of something so shallow, would you?”

Chrollo frowned now, embarrassed that he’d fallen for something so juvenile. He gave a pause, crossing his arms as he glared at the Outsider.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“I suppose you’d have your doubts after my little stunt… but no, you face a lot of challenges in the days ahead of you Chrollo, and I chose you because you could use my assistance,” the Outsider said as he let his body lean back into a sitting position in the air. “The powers I granted you will only grow and evolve from here on out, but not without work. In order for you to use my gift to its fullest, you will need to visit shrines erected in my name to obtain runes bearing my Mark, the same as the one etched into your hand.”

The god produced from his pocket what Chrollo assumed was supposed to be a rune, finding it was small enough to be held in one hand and glowed with the color of the Outsider’s eyes. It was transferred to him lightly by the Outsider’s gloved fingers, pushing then into his palm as he continued talking.

“These will give you the capability to expand your abilities. Of course, there are some runes scattered all over the place as well, so you will need to track those down too.

“How?” Chrollo asked, reeling from the change in mood and the influx of information he was receiving.

“That’s where this will come in,” the Outsider said, holding aloft an object in his hand that resembled—no— _was_ a heart. “The Heart of a living thing, molded by my own hands, will share with you many secrets as it guides you to my runes, no matter where they may be hidden.”

The Heart disappeared from the Outsider’s hands and appeared into Chrollo’s, a black smoke trail coming off of it briefly before dissipating, leaving him to stare at the strange organ in his hand. There was a few seconds of silence before the Heart in his hand spoke:

_“This place is the end of all things, and the beginning.”_

Chrollo almost dropped the Heart, startled by the haunting manner it spoke in, and whose voice it used… _Why… why is it Oito?_

“I… don’t know what to say,” Chrollo said truthfully, plagued with guilt at what he now held, but the Outsider’s expression was unreadable when he looked at him.

“Then don’t say anything,” the Outsider said in a different tone, far more neutral than it had been before. He let his arms cross in front of him, studying Chrollo for a bit before saying, “Sometimes, it’s best not to.”

Chrollo nodded, still unsure about how he felt about the whole thing. He knew it was a dream and yet… this felt too real to be a dream anymore.  Too real to continue questioning what was going on. Too real to deny what was in front of him.

He looked up at the Outsider again, taking in the pale skin and ratty hair, the odd mix of clothes and the scarlet eyes that saw all. It was nothing if not humbling to take in the fact that the person before him was the deity of the Void, the omniscient being of this world.

“While I enjoy that you find me handsome enough to gawk at, you should be heading back to your world. But before I send you back, just know,” he made an exaggerated bow, smiling when he made eye contact with Chrollo, “I will be watching everything you do with great interest.”

“I was not— no, wait, I have more questions—”

“In due time Chrollo,” the Outsider said, placing a hand on the side of his face, the deity’s glove icy cold on his cheek. “But it’s time for you to sleep now.”

Against his will, his vision faded to black yet again, and the last thing he saw was the Outsider’s face, haloed by the eerie blue light of the Void.


	3. Learning of Reality

The morning after his weird dream felt almost too normal. No blue tinted edges in his vision, no water dripping upwards, and definitely no Outsider. Chrollo got up to check if the Void was still outside the room he was in, relieved yet sad to see that the wall was magically patched back and functioning as a normal brick wall.

He sighed, not sure what he was expecting. That a fever dream he had after months of torture would give him a legit connection to a cryptid god? Chrollo could only rationalize it as the manifestation of his desires finally catching up to him. That was, until he closed the door with his left hand and spotted it.

The Mark.

Clear as day and clean of any imperfections, the intricate symbol was the same as it had been in his dream; fused with the back of his hand like he’d been born with this blessing— _this curse_ —and had never known a day without it. When he flexed his hand—just to test it, to see if the Outsider had been bluffing the whole time and that it was all just a ruse—he accidentally teleported himself halfway across the room, black mist circling around him before he landed in shock.

The revelation of his new found power was followed by no less than half an hour of absolutely calm and rational actions: by pacing back and forth with anxiety while glancing at the object of his worries every now and then, as if to check that the problem still actually existed and was still, in fact, _a problem_. Every time he checked, the Mark still _very_ _much_ existed, and was still _very much_ a problem.

It wasn’t until he heard a double knock on the entrance to his room did he come to a sudden halt, eyes wide as he stared at the door, praying that whoever was on the other side wouldn’t open it without his say so.

“Lord Protector? May we come in?” a cheery voice asked, a solid thump following the inquiry.

“Look Lord Hill, you can’t just barge in on him sleeping—”

“And what do you propose we do instead Admiral Saiyu? Let him sleep the day away while we sit around waiting for him to awaken like he’s some slumbering prince?”

“That is _not_ what I said—”

Chrollo rolled his eyes, glad he was not in a stuffy ballroom having to hide his reactions to the bickering of nobility. He looked at his hand again and smiled.

He teleported to a door he’d found earlier during his pacing, one on the other side of his temporary room, and made his way outside and down the stairs to ground level.

He made his way to the building opposite to where he came from, the garage door on the front of the building open and showing a wide variety of tech and gadgets inside. He was gonna move on when he heard someone call his name.

“Lord Chrollo?”

Chrollo’s head followed the voice to someone in the garage, lifting their welding mask up, and he found himself looking at a familiar face.

“Shalnark?” _The fanboy prison guard?_

Shalnark beamed at that, dropping whatever it was he was doing to come over to him with open arms.

“You remembered me!” Shalnark said, giving him a tight hug. “I thought you’d forget!”

“How could I forget?” Chrollo responded, lightly hugging the man back. He caught a glimpse of the Mark on his hand again and thinned his lips. He had to hide that thing soon. Shalnark released him from the hug, but kept a hand on his shoulder.

“I trust you liked the sweet gear I’ve made you?”

“Gear?” Chrollo took a pause, trying to recall what he meant when it clicked. “You mean the switch sword and the crossbow I was provided?”

“The very ones! Took me some time to get them to work how they needed to, but I hope they’re effective in real combat!”

“I’ll let you know when I use them for that then,” he said, and Shalnark blinked.

“Wait, you haven’t used them yet?” Shalnark asked, looking at him with a new form of admiration. “Are you saying you escaped without fighting?”

Chrollo had to laugh at that, wondering if he should tell him he didn’t kill anyone either. He decided to keep that detail to himself.

“The only thing I fought yesterday was my exhaustion.”

Shalnark smiled at that, patting him roughly.

“That’s impressive! Absconding from Coldridge with nothing more than a key and your wits! That’s bound to make headlines!”

Chrollo scoffed at the last part. _I doubt the public will see it that way._

“What’s impressive is your gear; the blade you made for me is beautiful! I just wish I’d had something like this when I was serving the Empress,” Chrollo said, feeling his heart flicker in dolor at the thought of her. “I… could’ve protected her better that way, I believe…”

Shalnark gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

“Hey, sorry man, I didn’t mean to bring up any memories. Let’s talk about something else alright?”

Chrollo nodded, knowing full well he’d have to properly grieve one day, but now wasn’t the time. He felt the Mark on his hand flare, the warmth of its power seeping into him. He sighed.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

*** * ***

The Outsider found himself staring quite blankly into nothingness, despite the Void being infinite around him and his eyes seeing all possibilities of past, present, and future.

Yet now, for the first time, he was finding a block in his predictions. A fuzzy area that reminded him of the static hum of electricity and the sound of waves rising, but never falling.

He retraced his steps, starting with his newest agent, Chrollo Lucilfer, whom even he had to admit caught his fancy despite his thousands of years of being a god. The Outsider found it vaguely amusing to have such a human feeling.

Idly, he ungloved his left hand to feel the scar on his neck, lanky fingers meeting the damaged tissue there. The scar carved into the skin in a way that suggested it had been a deep cut. He  retracted his hand and refocused on his task.

Chrollo would learn of his bearings through Shalnark, who’d become Chrollo’s trusted mechanic and weapons dealer. He’d  learn of how bad the rat plague had gotten since he’d last been there, and also meet Lord Pariston Hill and Admiral Saiyu, who were the most notable figures of the Loyalists gathered there, extending to Chrollo an offer of hospitality and safety in return for his services to get Wobble back on the throne, in place of her late mother, Empress Oito Hui Guo Rou.

He would accept, naturally, relieved that there were people who believed in his innocence and in the restoration of the crowned family. He’d don on a mask that looked like that of a crow. Thereafter, he’d take on missions from them, and Melody would drive him to each location on her small boat, forever kind and understanding if he’d come back worn out, tired, and sometimes covered in blood, even if she wasn’t sure if it was his or someone else’s.

The Outsider skipped ahead, skimming through mission after mission on his quest to find where Wobble was located, and if she was even still alive. All the while, Chrollo would visit his shrines, oddly devoted in finding his runes scattered throughout the islands. It was endearing, how hard he tried. Eventually, it got to one specific mission, where things began to go hazy: the Nostrade Ball.

The Loyalists had gotten a tip that the High Overseer knew of Wobble’s whereabouts and had them written down in a black book he carried with him. (This was accurate information, the Outsider had noted to himself with satisfaction.)

A forged invitation was made, and Chrollo was to go this particular mission alone, bearing the mask he’d worn on all his excursions thus far: a crow  mask, like that of a skull, leaving only his mouth visible in the shade under the beak of it. Small black feathers adorned the sides of the mask near his ears.

The mask would be recognized, yes, but seen as a poor joke to the rest of the party-goers, yet acceptable, thinking it apart of the masquerade theme that Overseer Nostrade’s daughter was so fond of.

After that, static.

The Outsider frowned, his light eyebrows pulling together on his forehead. He didn’t like _not_ knowing. That wasn’t part of the “omniscient god” job description, as far as he knew.

His frown only deepened, when the last images he could make out in the timeline was Chrollo,  relentless and impulsive Chrollo, headed straight to the ball without any detours or stops, not changing his course to hit any shrine on the way there.

The Outsider knew he shouldn’t blame the man, knowing that Chrollo was on the cusp of a new hope; a hope that Wobble was still out there, alive, and that he was only one target away from knowing how to get to her. It was something any man would feel, if they knew they had a chance to regain something they’d lost.

The Outsider knew this, and yet still felt the sting of betrayal.

But it lasted for only a second, for the next moment, unraveling before him as it happened in real time, showed Chrollo crouching behind a building wall, four yards away from the entrance, praying to him under a murmured breath.

“Please, help me Outsider… I’m so close I— I can’t lose her like before…” _Like I lost Oito._ “I have to save her this time…”

Then, to The Outsider’s surprise, Chrollo kissed the Mark.

A jolt of energy surged through him from the kiss, and he felt himself gasp silently. Chrollo had not done this with the intention of eliciting a reaction from the Outsider. No, he had done it for luck, having no knowledge that the Outsider could feel through him, or that the Mark itself was the most sensitive area of that connection.

The Outsider looked down, flexing his left hand that remained ungloved, energy bundled under the skin where the kiss had been placed. It was unnaturally warm to him, and he felt exposed by it, vulnerable even. He touched his neck absentmindedly.

_He kissed it for luck._

A slow smile spread across his face as he watched Chrollo gather up his nerve after his prayer and teleport from one patch of darkness to the next, skirting around the patrol surrounding the Nostrade estate with the professionalism of a veteran.

Maybe he was being biased, neglecting his role as the neutral ruling deity of the Void that he was made to be, but then again, nothing had been the same since Chrollo had shown up in the borders of the future. Now he was running amuck, becoming an urban legend under the god’s gentle guidance and generous gifts, and causing more changes and ripples in the timelines than any other individual the Outsider had come across.

“I suppose,” said the Outsider to himself as he put his glove back on, carefully pulling it and buttoning it tightly. “I’ll have to do some manual damage control for this one.”


	4. Party at Nostrade Mansion

“Welcome to the party sir,” a guard said, taking his forged invitation with a bemused look on his face. “Try not to scare anyone with your mask though.”

“I’ll try not to,” Chrollo smiled, almost unbelieving that this guard, and every other guard, weren't attacking him on sight. 

Chrollo moved on, getting comments left and right from people who recognized his mask.

“A bold move for a party, don’t you think? I don’t know what you were thinking…”

“The mask is in poor taste, but I suppose everyone enjoys a little of dark humor from time to time.”

“Is that mask custom made? It looks almost exactly like the one in the wanted posters!”

Ignoring the spectators watching him, he made his way into the Nostrade estate, not at all surprised or impressed by how grand and intricate it was inside.  _ Just as gaudy as the outside,  _ he thought to himself, casually strolling through the foyer. There, he was met with more bizarre glances but they went back to whatever it was they were doing, even if a few of the guards looked somewhat uneasy at the mask.

He mingled with the nobility around the manor, silently thanking Oito for forcing him to attend every public event she ever held, the experience in navigating noble-talk finally coming in handy.

“Did you hear, Mizai?” a woman in an overly bright pink rabbit mask asked one of her many companions as Chrollo was passing by. He stopped to listen as they all muttered their inquiries that no, they hadn’t heard! She simply must tell them… “The Nostrades are doing a game this evening where you have to guess the names of each lady of the house!”

“It’s a bit unfair though, right Piyon?” the man named Mizai pointed out immediately, with as much of a neutral tone as he could manage. His cow mask look as annoyed as he sounded. “The youngest Nostrade is finally old enough to attend these events, and so no one knows her name.”

“But you know, I heard she’s not even legitimate,” someone else said, joining in on the conversation. “A bastard child.”

There was a hushed gasp, scandalized at the information. A few took this moment to shift aside their masks and take a drink, and others started splitting into groups to whisper about everything else they’d heard.

“Oh but who could tell if she was? They’re all dressed the same tonight! The outfits, the masks, the hair — everything matches except the colors! Red, black, and white!”

“I bet it’s to make her look like one of them; act like she belongs.”

“If we’re gonna be honest, she could be the real thing!” the rabbit masked woman, Piyon, said, putting a finger to her mask’s lips as if it were her own. “Light’s wife died eight years ago, so it wouldn’t take a scholar to figure out that if the youngest is ten now, she could’ve been born in secret out of the public eye.”

“Because she came from a cicisbeo?”

“No,” Chrollo said to himself, yet he got the attention of the whole circle, who all stopped gossiping when he talked. “It was to give her a real childhood. The Outsider must know how hard those are to come by these days.”

As there was a murmur of approval from the other guests a young nobleman came up next to him and commented “He certainly does,” with an easy voice. Chrollo turned to see him better, and saw that he wore a beautifully gilded dragon mask, the fake scales on it shimmering with gold and the eyes on it a bright ruby red.

_ Possibly made from real rubies and gold,  _ Chrollo thought as he rolled his eyes under his mask.  _ Rich people. _

“A good observation,” acknowledged Piyon. “Shall I tell what I’ve found out thus far? I’ve heard Neon is wearing red tonight!”

“Red?” a flower decorated skull masked woman asked, surprised. “I thought she loved to be in white?”

“That would he too obvious then,” said Mizai, selecting some cheeses off of a platter a servant was holding. “They don’t want just anyone claiming that cash prize.”

“I suppose not,” Chrollo said. “Well, thank you for that; hopefully I can find out the rest by the end of tonight.” He bowed out of the conversation.

“Good luck!” was all Piyon cheerfully said as she turned back to the circle of nobles.

Chrollo could feel someone watching him as he walked away, so he discreetly activated his Mark to warp time, leaving the room quickly as the rest of the world continued on in slow motion, the music distorted and the people blurred. He managed to make it to a room with the buffet table before the effect wore off, and everything returned to normal. The feeling of being watched was gone.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there!” said a man next to him, and Chrollo turned in shock to see High Overseer Light Nostrade, smiling at him without realizing who he was. “I’ve heard of your mask already; it’s a good thing the guards knew it was a joke, otherwise you could’ve been in trouble!”

“Of course,” Chrollo said carefully, trying not to let his voice be recognized. “What of you though, sir? You wear no mask?”

“Ah, well,” Nostrade sighed, grimacing. “I know it’s supposed to be a masquerade but as someone with standing as an Overseer I’m supposed to keep my face uncovered. My daughter Neon was disappointed, but what can I do, you know?”

“I do.” Chrollo gave a polite smile at the man.

He looked around and saw that the room had been mostly cleared out, but that there as a few guards near the staircase. He walked around to the other side of Nostrade, his left hand out of the line of sight of the guards. As he got food from the table in front of him, he found and pickpocketed the black book from Nostrade, the clasp holding it to the man’s waist opening easily for him. He continued the conversation as if he’d done none of this.

“I don’t have a daughter myself, but my niece does try to get me to indulge in a few games herself.”

“Oh? Like dress up and tea parties?” Nostrade smiled, and Chrollo nodded politely.

“And sometimes hide-and-seek too. She thinks she’ll be able to find me quickly, but she’s a fool if she thinks I’ll go easy on her.”

Nostrade went weirdly silent at that, and Chrollo realized he might connect that act to Wobble, whom he had encountered enough times when he’d visit to know she was well known for dragging the guards posted around Dunwall Castle into games of hide-and-seek.

“She enjoys tea parties more though,” Chrollo corrected, the lie coming naturally. “Hates the outdoors, you know?”

Nostrade sighed in a way that said he was all too knowing of that.

“I know. Though my oldest, Machi, is… nevermind.” Nostrade shook his head, then, as a way of farewell said offhandedly “I really should mingle more with the crowd.”

“Have fun then, sir,” Chrollo said, giving a head nod as Nostrade waved to him goodbye.

Chrollo smiled, thumbing the black leather cover of the book he had pilfered under his coat. He made his way to the gardens.

There was enough people scattered about to where Chrollo could hide himself around the corner near some bushes and read the contents of the book he got from Nostrade. Most of it was in code, but thankfully it was one he was familiar with. He guessed they couldn’t come up with anything better than the one they’d used in the close ring that had surrounded Oito and himself since the subsequent turn of events.

He skimmed most of it, a lot of the dealings and happenings in the book about aiding in the coup d'etat over the late Empress: proof enough to put him in jail forever. But he didn’t care about that. He stopped at the first page that mentioned Wobble’s name.

 

_  The capture of princess Wobble was a success. We could think of no better place to hide her than with one of our own men, unfortunately, it was unanimously voted that I was to keep the girl captive. They said it was because I’d already had two daughters that I would know how to handle her, but I wasn’t comfortable with the idea. _

_  Lady Wobble is kind and smart, but is still only ten. I don’t know what I would do if one of my own daughters got caught up in such deadly political warfare like this at that age. I don’t even want to think about it… _

_  But if I keep this secret long enough, we can rule the Isles with the Lord Regent, and maybe Wobble will favor me during her reign if I am kind to her. And I have a way of doing that. _

_  She is to pose as my daughter for the upcoming masquerade and have her use the name of my late wife, Fluore, as her own. My only hope now is that no one finds out her true identity, and that this act of freedom that I’m giving her will make her trust me more. _

 

A rustling sound nearby made Chrollo slam the book close and shove it in his jacket just before a familiar mask turned the corner, the scaled gold of the mask glinting off of the distant light of a whale oil lamp.

“Well then,” said the man in the dragon mask, noticing Chrollo in the bushes and extending a gloved hand to him. “Want some help getting out of the bushes?”

“No, I think I’ll hang out here in the dirt some more. Really soak it in. Photosynthesize, if you will.”

“At night?”

“Of course.”

Like Chrollo’s mask, his mouth was exposed, allowing the assassin to see a glimpse of the smile there. His hand was still held aloft in its offer.

“The dancing is moving out to the gardens for the evening,” the young nobleman said, as people trickled into the garden behind him. “I figured you wouldn’t want to get caught here.”

“You figured right,” said Chrollo, finally taking the man’s hand. “Interesting mask, by the way.” He was tugged to his feet where the nobleman tilted his head a bit to the side in humor, the dragon mask glinting 

“I could say the same to you.”

Chrollo shrugged.

“It’s fashionable,” he defended, and the dragon masked nobleman let out a breath of air that sounded like a laugh.

“Of course.”

The dancing was in full swing behind the young nobleman now, all but a few guests and the guards standing to the side and watching. Chrollo realized how out of place they probably looked, talking in a corner of the garden while couples danced in slow circles around them. He was still holding onto the nobleman’s hand.

“Shall we join them?”

“It’s been a while,” was all Chrollo managed to protest as he was led into the fray. Dancers parted for them as his partner took him by the waist and lead them through the garden, twisting and turning to the music. Colors of flashy dress attire blurred through Chrollo’s peripherals, and he was acutely aware that he was managing to find this fun. The nobleman was a fabulous dancer, and he was close enough to him in height where the footwork was easy to follow, their movements as fluid as the rest of the garden party guests. Chrollo begrudgingly was grateful for dance lessons he’d received when he was the Royal Protector. Thankfully, the lessons were still in his muscle memory.

“You seem to follow well,” the nobleman observed, and Chrollo pursed his lips.

“You’re just a good partner.”

“That means a great deal to me, coming from you,” he said, and Chrollo felt his eyebrows raise up. A few beats of dancing passed before he spoke, curious now at how he was perceived.

“And who exactly do you think I am?”

Beneath the dragon mask, he saw a smile form, and for some reason it sent a cold shiver down his spine. The nobleman didn’t respond right away, instead steering them near another section of the garden, where tall, flowered bushes gave way to a maze. They stopped dancing when they got to the mouth of the garden maze, but still held each other as if they could start moving again at any moment.

“Can’t figure it out?” Chrollo teased, but something felt off about accusing him of not knowing something. He tried again. “I assume you wouldn’t guess Chrollo Lucilfer; it seems like too obvious a jump, right?”

The smile on the nobleman’s face didn’t change, the night air getting colder around them as he leaned into Chrollo’s space, tilting his head so that their masks didn’t collide as his lips came only centimeters away from Chrollo’s own.

“I don’t need to guess to know who you are my dear Chrollo.”

His breath tickled at his skin, barely disturbing the feathers at the edge of his mask. No one was paying them any mind, but somehow that put Chrollo even more on edge. The music's quality seemed to change, like it was underwater. The nobleman spoke again.

“Can you guess who I am? If you do so correctly, you’ll be rewarded.”

One of the nobleman’s hands trailed from Chrollo’s waist to his arm, tracing a line from elbow to wrist, then finally, to the black bandages over his hand, where his Mark flared almost painfully, but then with a soothing warmth. Chrollo’s mouth went dry.

“Outsider,” Chrollo said, hushed and under his breath. He finally noticed the tinting of blue around his vision, the tell-tale sign of the Void being close. He didn’t know where to start with the questions that began to bubble up inside him when he felt more than saw the smile of the nobleman become a grin, as cold and chapped lips chilled his own.

“Good boy.”

Then, the music became faint, and they were no longer in the gardens.


	5. Meetings and Deals

Chrollo took a step back from the Outsider, who by now had taken off his mask and was holding it in one gloved hand while the other combed through his bright hair to release it from the pressed effects the mask had had on it. It was awfully attractive, and it made Chrollo grip at his own forearm tightly.

He took another step away only to have his back meet the railing of a balcony. He took a glimpse backwards and saw the garden full of dancing couples continuing without them as if they hadn’t blinked away mysteriously. Chrollo turned towards the Outsider, who looked satisfied with the confusion he had caused inside Chrollo. His eyes were still as stunning as ever. He ignored it all.

“Why are you bothering me?”

“I’m here for the party, same as you,” he said, and Chrollo frowned.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then say what’s really on your mind.”

He breathed in a steadying amount of air, exhaling slowly as he bid his heart to calm down. As he gathered his thoughts, he licked at his chapped lips; they tasted of sea salt.

_ Why did you kiss me? _

“Why are you here?”

The Outsider considered him, placing his mask on a nearby side table in favor of crossing his arms and letting his head rest in the palm of his hand.

“You didn’t think I’d let  _ you _ have all the fun, did you?”

“Answer my question.”

The Outsider sighed and closed his eyes, letting a frown appear on his face to show he was disappointed. When he opened his eyes again, they looked like the last two dying charcoals of a fire left to the harshness of a winter night. Chrollo tried to not think too much about what that imagery meant.

“I can’t see what comes next,” he said at length, his eyes trained on Chrollo. “This has never happened before, but I assume it’s happening because of, impossibly,  _ you.” _

Chrollo blinked, then straightened his posture.

“I thought you saw everything?”

“Usually, I do,” he said. “Even though my eyes can’t physically see anything, the Void allows me to observe anything and everything. But the Void is failing me for the first time since I’ve come to power as a god, and it’s-”

The Outsider paused, then turned to look into the room they were standing outside of, the curtains surrounding the doorway swaying gently in the breeze. A few seconds went by where the party downstairs was the only source of noise before someone wearing a black dress walked in slowly, looking at both of them. She had discarded her mask like the Outsider had earlier, holding it in her hand, and was staring at them with annoyance.

“What are you doing up here?”

“Helping,” was the Outsider’s quick reply, bowing slightly towards the woman. “Machi Nostrade, I presume? You’re not fond of the arrangement with holding Wobble Hui Guo Rou captive in this household and taking your late mother’s name, correct?”

Machi’s mouth fell open a bit in shock, then her eyes narrowed, suspicious now.

“How do you know that information?”

“The same way I know that, despite your father’s begging, you’ve been dating Pakunoda Hill for the past three years, and refuse to take a male lover.”

Chrollo almost felt bad for Machi, watching her stiffen her muscles at the Outsider’s information, careful now at how she held herself and her mind racing for an appropriate response. There was none.

“What he means to say,” Chrollo said, stepping forward “is that we can at least solve one of those problems for you.”

Machi didn’t look at him the same way she had the Outsider, and Chrollo barely caught fear flashing through her eyes at the sight of his mask before she managed to quell it.

“He won’t kill anyone, promise,” the Outsider said, as if sensing her unease. “He’s only here for Ms. Wobble.”

“What will you do with her?” Machi asked defensively, and Chrollo almost smiled at her tone. She sounded protective. “If you’re going to hurt her-”

“She’s my niece,” Chrollo said, and he could see both Machi and the Outsider pause. “I would never hurt her.”

Machi looked over at the Outsider, and Chrollo nudged him with his hand to let him know she was staring at him.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Because you’re the Outsider, right?” she asked, as if this was an obvious fact. “According to Pakunoda, you should know everything. So tell me - is he lying or not?”

“He’s telling the truth,” the Outsider said with a smile, not hiding the fact that he was pleased to be recognized. “The late Empress Oito was his sister.”

Machi nodded, seeming to take the information in stride.

“Does anyone else know?”

“The ones who do are dead.”

She nodded again.

“Alright, I’ve decided I’ll help you,” she said with finality, putting her mask back on and adjusting the holds of it as she continued to talk. “But you have to find Wobble first and give her a message for me. If you tell her to meet me in the basement, I can get her out of here and to the river bank outside the city.”

“You don’t want anything in return?” Chrollo asked, and she shook her head, pink strands of hair falling out when she did.

“I was already going to leave tonight with Pakunoda, so getting Wobble out of here is the least I can do for her. As for my sister Neon… well, she’ll be fine. She’s Dad’s favorite anyway.”

As Machi fixed her appearance the Outsider put his own mask on again, letting Chrollo help straighten it when he couldn’t get it on just right.

“You do know what color she’s wearing tonight, right?” asked Machi, and Chrollo nodded as he tugged one last time at the dragon mask.

“White. Her favorite color.”

“Good. However you made it up here without alerting the guards, I would suggest using that way again to get out of here. I’ll head to the basement now, and if anything comes up to interfere with this plan, let me know immediately.”

“Right.”

As silently as she had arrived, Machi was gone, and it seemed the dancing in the garden had transferred back to being inside, only a few guests lingering about. Chrollo was scanning where to blink when he felt the Outsider place a gloved hand on his marked hand.

“You have a plan now, doesn’t that mean you can take your time executing it?”

“The night doesn’t last forever.”

“I know.”

Chrollo kept searching for a spot before he felt the familiar pull of the Void and suddenly they were in the garden again, just inside the maze and out of sight of any common folk.

“I think balconies are more romantic, but I suppose this isn’t so bad either,” the Outsider said, releasing his hand as he let his fingers brush the side of the flowered bushes. He paused as he reached the entrance to the maze before he looked back.

“Well? Aren’t you going now?”

Chrollo frowned a bit, staring at the Outsider for a bit longer. He only wore a dark green coat over what he normally wore minus the mask, and he wondered how he didn’t realize it was him as soon as he’d met him. Chrollo had more questions to ask him still—like, earlier, was he going to say he was terrified? Or was he was really so blind he could only follow the traces of the Void in the real world? And was that why he always bothered Chrollo when he visited? Because he was the only thing he knew, the only thing he could see, the Mark his beacon? And if the Void was on the fritz recently, did that mean he was basically walking into this party blind in search for answers? Instead of asking any of those questions, Chrollo walked over to the Outsider and extended his Marked hand to him with a faint smile.

“Do you want to meet my niece?”

There were few times where Chrollo could count himself lucky enough to see the Outsider be caught unaware, the look of genuine surprise flitting across his face and body, and this was one of the times, what little of his face that he could see, looking as if he’d had the floor swept out from underneath him. He recovered gracefully though, letting his mouth form into a pleased smile as he took Chrollo’s hand.

“I’d love to.”


	6. A Good Friend

Delivering the message to Wobble was easier than Chrollo predicted. Their approach to her was seen  as non-threatening since, according to the whispered comments from many party-goers, he and the Outsider looked like a couple. If only they knew he had a blind god clutching to his arm rather than some random nobleman.

Chrollo was able to talk briefly with Wobble, who held up her disguise as Fluore very well, even doing all the proper mannerisms and etiquette he knew she wasn’t fond of to fit the role of a young Nostrade woman. When he introduced the Outsider as a friend of his from Serkonos, she clapped her hands together happily.

“I know someone from Serkonos! They’re a good friend of mine,” she said, and Chrollo couldn’t help but smile at that.  _ I know _ , he wanted to say, but didn’t.

“Oh right, before I forget, your older sister wanted me to tell you something,” he said, and he told her where to meet Machi. Wobble thanked them politely for the message and dismissed herself calmly, taking only a few steps before she began running.

When Chrollo saw her make the turn towards the basement, his mission at the masquerade was officially over, and the Outsider was kind enough to give him a way out of there without having to encounter too many people.

They blinked as far as the opposite side of the river and in the second floor of an abandoned building where a shrine sat, glowing purple and pulsating with the Void. As soon as they arrived, the Outsider’s mask and coat immediately drifted apart into black smoke as he sat at the shrine and letting the driftwood and whale bones take his full weight. It was weird seeing the blonde look so exhausted, hunched over and rubbing at his closed eyes.

“Tired?” asked Chrollo, jokingly.

“Something like that,” the Outsider allowed, blonde hair half slicked back and the other half falling down around his face carelessly. “Keeping up a corporeal form is… draining when I’m not near a source of energy.”

“Like a shrine?”

“Yes.”

From the building they were in, he could see the Nostrade Mansion in all of its glory, the sounds of the celebration muted but still joyous, as if the High Overseer hadn’t lost two daughters in the span of a night. Chrollo turned towards the Outsider, who lingered longer than normal at the shrine now, recovering his senses.

“I’m assuming you can make it back to the Void on your own?”

“And if I can’t? Would you escort me there?”

The flirtatious tone in the Outsider’s voice made Chrollo remember the dancing, the maze,  _ the kiss.  _ It hadn’t been especially passionate or prevalent from the whole night, but the words ‘ _ Good boy’ _ as his lips had made contact with Chrollo’s reverberated in his head again and again until he flushed hard under his mask. He was grateful the god couldn’t actually see him.

“Why did you do it?” asked Chrollo finally, and the blonde across from him frowned. Chrollo wasn’t fond of how human it made him look. How, despite his abnormal glowing eyes of pyre and his overdressed appearance, he looked like a young man who knew a life of hardships; of death.  _ Of being alone. _

“Haven’t I made it obvious? I find you attractive my dear Chrollo.” He sat up straight, keeping his eyes level with Chrollo’s. “It wasn’t my reason to Mark you, no, but I won’t lie that I’m into you.”

A cold feeling settled in Chrollo’s bones, and as much as he thought he’d known that fact, it was still a shock to hear it out loud. To know that some omniscient god had been courting him this whole time, and that on some subconscious level, he had been drawn to that. But that shouldn’t be right…

“I suppose that’s an appropriate reaction,” the Outsider said, tone neutral. “Well no matter, if you don’t reciprocate, then we can go back to how it was beforehand. I’ll give you a rune, and you’ll be on your way without heeding my cryptic advice. How about it?”

The Outsider produced a rune now, held outstretched like a peace offering, and it was only out of reflex that Chrollo took it. The rest of his body felt paralyzed, and part of him felt guilty about it. This wasn’t the reaction he’d want to give to someone confessing, but the situation was too odd for him to give a normal response. Thankfully, the Outsider didn’t comment on this.

“You should really get going now; I wouldn’t want Ms. Wobble to stand out in the cold all alone for too long,” said the Outsider, leaning back onto the shrine, letting his eyes trace to the ceiling.

Silence followed, the hum of the Void around the shrine too loud now as Chrollo stood frozen in place, and the Outsider stared at nothing in particular. After what felt like the longest few minutes of his life, Chrollo took his cue to leave, making to blink out of the room just as the god spoke again, stopping him just as his Mark flared to life.

“Chrollo?” His voice sounded different than the other times he had said his name. Unsure, questioning, and young.  _ Very unlike himself. _ He looked down and over to Chrollo, a barely visible smile on his face now. “Thank you, for everything tonight.”

Then the Outsider gently pressed his lips to the back of his left hand, the kiss sending a jolt of energy to Chrollo through his Mark, the sigil glowing gold at the action.

It took everything Chrollo had in him to not flinch at the unexpected sensation, his eyes going back and forth between the god before him and the Mark on his hand, trying to piece together why it felt so familiar when it clicked.

“You were watching,” he said, accusing.

“I’m always watching.”

“It was for luck.”

“I know.”

That was all there was to be said then. Outside, fireworks went off above the Nostrade mansion, lighting the sky different colors and casting assorted hues across the city. A few guards laughed at a joke about rat plague victims from below. In the room, there was silence as Chrollo left, and the Outsider’s eyes dimmed, his body dissipating into black smoke until there was nothing left but the eerie purple glow of the shrine and the pull of the Void.

***    * ***

“Chrollo!” Wobble exclaimed happily, bounding off of a small boat and onto the shore, her mask discarded but her dress from the ball still on. She tackled him into a hug as soon as she was close enough, almost knocking them both over as she buried her head into his stomach, muffling her voice. “I’m so happy you found me!”

“So am I,” said Chrollo, feeling his shoulders relax drastically with Wobble’s hug. “Did you thank Machi for helping you?”

“Of course I did!” Wobble said, pursing her lips. “You should do that too; they were nice to me, even though they didn’t have to be!”

Chrollo smiled at her, then looked back to see Machi and a taller woman, who was presumably Pakunoda, watching them expectantly from their boat. He gave Wobble one last squeeze before he made his way down to the boat, the wood of the pier creaking beneath him

“Thank you for letting her escape with you Machi; I don’t know what I’d have done if I had to get her out of there myself.”

“It’s a good thing we don’t have to find out,” Machi said with little humor, then “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Chrollo paused, confused, and then felt his eyes roll when he asked “You mean the Outsider?”

This time, Machi smirked, obviously enjoying her teasing.

“Who else?”

“He left after we gave your message to Wobble; I couldn't find him after that,” he lied easily, and Pakunoda nodded at that.

“Sounds about right. He always has things to watch; the fact that you were able to meet him was a miracle in of itself,” she said to Machi, and the shorter woman huffed at that.

“How dare he show his face to me then fuck off as if my business is beneath him?”

“I’m sure that wasn’t his intention,” Pakunoda said, coming over and putting her hands on Machi’s shoulders calmingly. “There is a lot of underground activity going on in this city since the Empress’s death, it would be weird if he had the time to lounge around with us and have tea.”

“He would if he could, I’m sure. He enjoys gossip,” Chrollo said, shaking his head. “But you’re not wrong. Political and religious leaders are trying to seize whatever power they can get their hands on. I may be good at what I do, but it’s not exactly easy telling the rich they can’t do something.”

Pakunoda laughed politely at his comment, while Machi nodded, but looked unimpressed all the same. She probably knew what he was saying as well, having been apart of the upper class social circle.

“I know you’re busy with keeping this world in order, but I have one thing to add,” Pakunoda said, stepping a bit closer to Chrollo. “Machi told me that she hinted that I knew the Outsider to you, but it’s much more than that. I was apart of the cult that created the Outsider, the one that made him into the god he is today.”

Chrollo blinked. “What?”

“They’re known as the Eyeless, and up until recently I had decided I was going to leave their organization, however…” Pakunoda tapered off, glancing at Machi before she continued. “I never officially left.”

“Paku!” Machi said, her tone implying that she was more concerned than upset with her decision. “How are we going to leave if those cultists try to follow us? And what will they do if they find out you’re betraying them?”

“They won’t,” Pakunoda reassured, squeezing her shoulders lightly. “Promise. I just need to wrap something up there. Something big.”

She looked over at Chrollo, face serious now.

“I want you to steal the Twin-bladed Knife from the Eyeless. Most would mistake it as any old ritual knife, but I had enough status in the cult to know what it truly was; the weapon that was used to make the Outsider, and the weapon that can undo him as well.”

Chrollo felt his whole body go cold at the thought, and he felt his left hand clench up just to feel the electricity of the Void, just to make sure the Mark was still there. The energy came immediately to his hand, and he almost sighed aloud in relief. He exhaled slowly, his breath coming out shaky and in a visible puff, his thoughts running at high speed despite the hold he had on his composure.

_ Did the Outsider know of this? _

_ Is it the cause for the disruptions in the Outsider’s foresight? _

_ Does anyone else know of this? _

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know” Pakunoda confessed, shifting her weight from leg to the other. “There was a negotiation at the ball; a trade that resulted in a change of location for the blade. But if you agree to steal it, I will do all I can to find its new location, hand over any research they’ve collected, and figure out why they’re moving it in the first place” 

“You sound like your brother now,” Machi grumbled.

“I’m serious about this offer Mr. Lucilfer. After everything I’ve learned, it shouldn’t be in their hands.”

“I don’t know everything that you know, but I agree. No one should have that sort of power,” Chrollo said.  _ I won’t let anyone hurt him with that. Not if I can help it. _ “I’ll steal the knife.”

“Wonderful. We’ll be in touch then.” Pakunoda bowed to him, then pulled a lever that started up the boat’s engine, slowly moving it out into the river. “And don’t worry about finding me; I’ll find you.”

Chrollo nodded, then waved goodbye, watching them until they were enveloped by the fog. When Chrollo turned, Wobble was standing next to him, eyeing his left hand.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why is it wrapped in bandages?”

“It’s stylish.”

Wobble made a disbelieving sound.

“So you’re not hurt?”

“Not at all.”

“Good.”

Wobble took his hand in hers and smiled at him, lightly swinging their arms with the motion. Chrollo smiled back.

“Alright kiddo, let’s go. You can help me look for Melody.”

“Who’s Melody?”

“A good friend of mine.”


	7. Remembrance of Peace

When Chrollo and Melody had returned with Wobble back to the Hound Pits Hub, everyone was fast asleep, presumably knowing by now that Chrollo would return when the job was done on his own time. Chrollo helped Wobble off the boat and said goodnight to Melody, retiring then to his room with Wobble following him, not wanting to spend the night alone in the tower they’d set her up in. Too lonely, she had said. So Chrollo allowed her to stay with him, knowing she was not the only one grateful to be near someone she knew and cared about.

As she curled up next to him, he found that sleep came easily to him as soon as his head hit the pillow, pulling him under into a deep slumber.

 

_ The day he had received his Mark, after he had met Shalnark, Pariston, and Saiyu, he’d wandered around the Hounds Pits Hub, getting used to his abilities and reveling in the newfound freedom they granted. It was great to be able to walk around in something bigger than a 6’ x 12’ space, and also able to get virtually anywhere with his blinking ability. _

_ That was, after all, how he found what was supposed to be Wobble’s room then, located in what looked like an abandoned tower from the outside, the walkway to the wooden door less than safe for anyone to walk on, even for an assassin like himself. When he got to the door, it wasn’t locked, so he’d walked in to find a sparsely decorated room, furnished with the best that they could find for an underpaid rebellion. _

_ He sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed placed in there, cradling his mug of coffee in his hands as he let the warmth seep to him. His day had been full of learning new information after the next and at this point he was just exhausted. Some part of him wished he’d let the execution happen just to finally have some rest, then he remembered Wobble. He took another sip. _

_ “How did you like waking up to my Mark on you?” _

_ Chrollo almost choked on his sip of coffee, the voice coming from right behind him. He hurriedly  wiped the scalding coffee from his face, turning hastily around to see the Outsider floating a foot in the air, leaning his head on top of his arms as if he were resting them over a desk. He looked smug at what he’d done. _

_ “Don’t phrase it like that.” _

_ An amused smile swept across his face. “Like what?” _

_ Chrollo narrowed his eyes at the deity, black smoke curling off of the blonde in a wind he couldn’t feel. He chose to pay no mind to the Outsider’s feigned ignorance. _

_ “I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Chrollo mumbled, turning his back on him and bringing the coffee back to his mouth. _

_ “You don’t have a choice,” came the Outsider’s voice. Chrollo saw out of the corner of his eye that his haunting figure was floating alongside him now. As it floated down to sit next to him, Chrollo sighed. _

_ “What do you want?” _

_ The Outsider shrugged. _

_ “I already asked you how you liked it, I’m just waiting for a response.” _

_ Chrollo flipped up the back of his hand, tracing the lines of the Mark with his eyes. If he concentrated on it, he could feel it throb in pain on his skin, like it had its own heart. _

_ “I don’t want it.” _

_ “You don’t like the gifts I gave you?” _

_ “A brand to make me more recognizable and a mock organ that sounds like the dead Empress? No, I don’t think I do,” Chrollo said with a hint of annoyance, but the Outsider only raised his fair eyebrows, glowing red eyes uncaring about those details. _

_ “That’s not all I gave you, you know.” _

_ Chrollo paused with a frown, taking a few seconds to get what he meant. _

_ “I can… teleport now,” he said slowly, flexing his left hand as he did, and the Outsider smiled as the Mark flared up. _

_ “More or less,” the Outsider shrugged. “You’ve gotten quite used to it for someone who only just obtained the power a few hours ago.” _

_ Chrollo pursed his lips. _

_ “I’m only using it because they’re useful.” _

_ “Sure. Just like the immunity to the plague I granted you.” _

_ Chrollo looked up, mouth slightly ajar. _

_ “I’m sorry, what?” _

_ “The rat plague,” the Outsider clarified as if the matter was rather trivial to him. “The thing that is hurting your city so much you were sent from isle to isle to ask for aid.” He gave a pause for dramatic effect, crossing his legs as he tilted his head towards Chrollo. “So long as you are under my service, you will need no one’s aid but mine.” _

_ Chrollo nodded, swallowing the last of his coffee as if it was going to help him take in this information. _

_ “Thank you.” _

_ The Outsider smiled again, and the room became colder, but the red eyes beside him only seemed to grow hotter. _

_ “No need for thanks, dear Chrollo, but it’s appreciated. For such politeness though, I’ll give you a hint.” _

_ Icey gloves moved his warm hands, taking the Heart out of Chrollo’s coat. _

_ “Next time you question someone, point this at them. You’ll get the truth that way.” _

_ The room twisted and then the Outsider was gone, along with the cool air and his cool hands, a ghost of the deity’s fingertips still lingering on his skin. Chrollo shivered.  _

_ The scene changed. _

_ He was on one of his first missions for the Loyalists, sneaking around the city for information and gossip while scouting for materials for Shalnark’s mechanical creations. Most of his findings were stuff like diary entries of plague victims, letters from some higher ups to the city watch detailing about the banned practice of rat burning, or notes with bone charms and runes stating that they were “suspicious objects” and that they should be sent in for inspection. Chrollo would usually nab those gifts for himself in the latter circumstances. _

_ But with all the running around that he did in these areas, the locals had noticed him, many of them seeing him as a sort of vigilante figure, what with his occasional saving people when they were being harassed by the city guard or helping them do difficult tasks that would be otherwise impossible to pull off by themselves. He didn’t think he deserved the title, but he couldn’t deny that there wasn’t any benefits. Afterall, most of them gave their thanks in the form of money or vault combinations in hopes that it could settle their debt, but the ones Chrollo enjoyed the most were the people who would tell him stories; information. _

_ He knew now of how certain families fell to the plague, or the desperate measures people would go through to get elixirs, even going as far as trusting knock-off ones made by local gangs. But the one thing that stuck with him had always been a tale an old woman told to him in the form of a song; a tale about the Outsider. _

_ She had spun a story of a man that had been like anyone else in the isles of Gristol, Serkonos, Morey, and Tyvia, but had a tragic fate tied to him. Except his origin was from the mysterious Pandyssian continent, a far off land mass across the ocean: huge, untameable, and shaped like a whale. Her voice sang more of how he was made by the whims of a cult, he had his name cut from him and forced him into a life of solitude, forever to wander the Void and to never know peace again. And now, only the dead could read his name, but he’d never hear it until the day he died. _

Hearing the song again in his dream had him remembering the Twin-bladed Knife, the weapon that could kill a god. He recalled how, at the moment, he had thought the song interesting but probably not canonical, for some reason believing that no one could know anything about the Outsider’s past but the Outsider himself, and that he certainly didn’t  _ act  _ like he was ever human.

Except, that he did.

In the way he would lilt some of his words with an undefinable accent, of an older time and another place.

In the way he would pause in sentences to search for certain words, as if for a moment he didn’t know what to say next.

And even in the way he would flirt and joke when Chrollo was around, a smile on his face like he meant the world to him… 

Chrollo had dismissed this as simply a mimicry of humans after having been in the minds of generations after generations of people, but with the knowledge Pakunoda had gathered…

_ The scene shifted again, and he was standing in a quite large bathroom, a shrine next to the vanity and across from the tub, and the Outsider hovering in the middle of it as if he didn’t even notice. _

_ “What’s your name?” Chrollo had asked, his curiosity about the song only lingering since he had heard it not even a few minutes ago. The god turned and looked at him, his glowing eyes swirling with a particular shade of scarlet that Chrollo had never seen in them before. _

_ “I am the Outsider, of course,” he said matter-of-factly, purposefully avoiding what Chrollo was after. _

_ “You know what I meant.” _

_ The Outsider paused for the first time since Chrollo had known him at the time, his demeanor wavering. He turned fully to him, lips parted with an answer that he refused to spill. It could have been a trick of the light, but Chrollo could’ve swore that he saw a frown on the god’s face. _

_ “You have it on you.” _

_ Chrollo blinked, tilting his head before he asked “You mean the Mark you gave me?” _

_ “Of course.” _

_ “What does it say?” _

_ “You’ll know, one day,” he said cryptically, then disappeared in his usual fashion, as Chrollo had learned after only a few times, by black smoke, and all that was left of his presence was the rune he’d gotten from the shrine pulsing in one hand and the Heart beating in the other. _

_ He put the rune away and looked at the Heart, pointing a thumb where the Outsider had been only a moment ago. _

_ “If I point you at him next time, will you tell me his name?” _

_ He laughed at the jest, putting the Heart away then as well and affixing his mask back onto his face. He knew he might catch the Outsider’s wrath for that stunt the next time they met, but he didn’t care. _

_ The joke wasn’t for him anyway.  _

 

And then Chrollo was awake, his eyes slowly focusing on the ceiling above him as dust caught the light of the low burning candles around him. He felt the absence of the warm weight of Wobble on his stomach, and his panic only lasted a second when he turned his head and saw her curly brown hair bent over a book as Wobble hummed to herself. She’d changed out of her ball attire.

Chrollo sighed quietly in relief, glad that Wobble was safe, that he was safe, and for the first time in months, he felt that things were okay. Slowly, he unlocked all the muscles in his body just to  relax, letting himself rest back onto the bed and let himself enjoy what little time he had now of actual peace.

Peace, he was finding out, never lasted long. For anyone. And he was going to take what he could of it before he was sent back into the chaos, ready to face the rest of the challenges ahead of him head on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end, I promise! I would love to continue this in some time on a later date, but this seemed like a good place to end to prevent it from becoming too long to read in one go! I won't break it into 'official' parts like the Grudge Rule series though, I'll update any further chapters here! Anyway, thank you for reading my fic, I hope you enjoyed it!


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